Page 53 of The Tiger in the Sack

“This town? Like Cincinnati? I didn’t think she ever left New York unless it was for the Bahamas.”

“Me either. But her divorce from Reggie has changed things. Hopefully she just needs a little coddling, some shopping, and I can send her back on her way. But I may be calling you to save me from her chihuahuas. She’s got three now.”

“I am strictly a cat person.” There wasn’t anything awful about Tiki, aside from keeping tiny yappy dogs in her purse. She was just a bit self-centered, but I’d gotten along with her fine the few times over the years she’d been around.

Gabi gave a big sigh and left. I sat very still in my office for approximately one full minute.

Then I picked up my phone and looked at the view count.

Two point four million.

Thirty-some-odd women had been waiting their whole lives to see themselves on that field. This morning they had picked up their phones or laptops or tablets and asked if there was room. Because of a video. Because of a tumbling pass and a fifteen-second routine and one completely unfiltered man with terrible timing and excellent aim saying the true thing on camera.

I put the phone face down.

Thanks for nothing, Kingman.

I opened my laptop and got back to work.

The calendar invite came through at three seventeen.

Gabrielle Jackson has invited you to: Cheer Team Strat and Alignment Meeting. Wednesday, 9am, Conference Room A.

I read the attendee list.

G. Jackson. C. Freeman. T. Roper. I. Kingman. F. Daws. B B. Rutherford. M. Whyte.

I read it again. Then a third time, because apparently I needed three passes to fully absorb an attendee list that was not going to change no matter how many times I read it.

Monty Whyte.

Isak Kingman.

And me.

All in the same room.

On Wednesday.

I opened a new document and titled it Wednesday Talking Points and stared at the blinking cursor for longer than I was going to admit.

My phone buzzed. The FaceSpace memories feature popped up and showed me a photo of Tig as a kitten sitting in a bowl of potpourri looking extremely pleased with himself.

I sent him three heart emojis even though he was a cat and could not read them, and then I started typing.

Wednesday was two days away.

I had been in harder rooms than this.

I was getting everything I wanted. Just with a side of dumbass football players I didn’t want.

I. Did. Not. Want.

TIKI TORCHES

ISAK

Isat on the living room couch and stared at the calendar invite. Vito headbutted my knee. I kept staring.